From The Ashes, A New World
by Peki2012
Summary: Set post-Fallen Kingdom. Claire and Owen must figure out where they stand and how to continue on. Claire/Owen romance, smutty in parts.


From The Ashes, A New World

They drove for nine hours straight until they started to feel like they'd put enough distance between themselves, the dinosaurs and the fallout of the investigation. More questions would need answering later, Claire was sure, but just then she didn't want to think about it. She was tired enough to lie down on the grimy floor of the motel lobby and go to sleep right there.

"I'm sorry, Sir, we only have the one room. We're fully booked."

That startled her out of her stupor. She pushed past Owen's solid form to get at the reception desk and face down the employee there. "We need two rooms," she said, trying to keep her voice from screeching. Beside her, she could hear Owen huff quietly and was sure even without looking at him that he was rolling his eyes. "Maisie…"

"Our daughter," Owen supplied too quickly.

Claire barely kept from flinching. The adrenaline had worn off, and with it her ability to handle a high-speed chase. The back-and-forth between her and Owen definitely qualified as such. They always did well together when they were in life-threatening danger, but their relationship was made for nothing less than that; definitely not for dim, dingy motels with double beds and tiny bathrooms.

They'd clash in some way or other before the night was out, like animals in a too-small cage.

The animals were roaming free though, and the three of them needed a safe place to rest. Claire took a deep breath. "Maisie needs her own space. Is there nothing you can do?"

"Sorry," the woman said, pushing a single key across the desk. "You're in room 136."

" _Maisie needs her own space_ ," Owen said sarcastically as they walked back to the car to get the kid and the few supplies they'd managed to grab before they high tailed it out of California. He did a pretty good job imitating Claire's voice.

Claire scowled. "It's true. She's a smart, sensitive kid who has just been massively traumatized, and-"

"And you'd think she'd sleep better alone in her room after all that?"

"Actually, I was going to put you in the separate room," Claire said primly.

He chuckled. "It's not Maisie that needs her space, it's you."

"And what if I am?" she snapped, rounding on him. "We haven't even _talked_ about, well, any of it. Damn it, Owen!"

"Excuse me," he said, and he sounded hurt now, " _You_ kissed _me_ back there."

She sighed. It was true, but that didn't make it any easier to explain. "Yeah, well, I did a lot of things back there that I'd never be able to do here."

In spite of it all, he grinned. "You're not giving yourself enough credit. C'mon, Maisie." He'd opened the car door and the girl almost tumbled into his arms. After what she'd been through, Claire wouldn't be surprised if the child slept for the next week. Claire certainly would have liked to.

Owen seemed to see it in her face. He straightened, hitching Maisie up in his arms, and offered Claire a slight smile over the girl's shoulder. "Look, we've been awake for what now, forty-eight hours? Let's just have a rest. We'll think about the rest tomorrow."

In their room, two double beds were made up. Owen would barely fit into one alone, and she didn't want to imagine what sharing it would entail. Unfortunately she didn't even have to imagine, she knew from long months sleeping in a van together. He was a cuddler; inevitably, she'd be wrapped in a bear hug by tomorrow morning, fit as snugly to him as two humans could get without…well. _That_ would happen too, inevitably, unless Claire found the strength to resist it somewhere, and she wasn't sure a single night's sleep would be enough to fortify her against her warring desires if she woke up to Owen's massive erection pressed against her ass.

"You girls take the beds, I'll sleep on the floor," Owen said, brushing past her with the child, and Claire came out of her memories with a start.

"Don't be ridiculous. You need a good night's sleep just as much as we do." Claire sighed. "We've managed in smaller spaces, anyway. It'll be fine."

They had 'managed' for a while, true, but they hadn't been fine. Owen arched an eyebrow at her, but nodded. He laid Maisie down on one bed, and Claire moved to take the girl's shoes off and cover her with the comforter. Maisie didn't even wake up, she was so exhausted. She simply rolled over, hugging her knees to her chest, and snuggled into the pillows.

Claire sat on the edge of the bed for half an hour watching the girl sleep simply because she was too exhausted to get up. She heard Owen rummaging around in the bathroom, the water running then being shut off. Slowly, the tension that had kept her coiled like a spring gave way to bone-deep fatigue. They were safe for now, at least; they could relax. And yet, the restless energy had to go somewhere, it wouldn't allow her to just lie down and sleep like a child. Lucky Maisie.

The wound in Claire's leg ached as she got up. The paramedics had bandaged her up and given her painkillers, but she might need antibiotics, and possibly real treatment at a real hospital to repair the damage, never mind tidy up the wound so she wouldn't be stuck with a horribly ugly scar. All of that would have to wait, though.

She went to join Owen in the bathroom and locked the door, just in case Maisie woke up. She shouldn't have to worry about things, that was for grown ups, but for once in her life, Claire wished that she didn't always have to take charge. She had no choice, though; the six-foot-two toddler in the tactical vest wasn't likely to be much help.

The bathroom was fogged up with steam. Owen had taken a shower and was now standing by the sink, wrapped in a towel, casually scraping gore off his belt buckle. That kind of thing was getting entirely too normal for them. Claire wondered if the drama would ever stop now, but it wasn't likely to, with the dinosaurs roaming free and her and Owen once more stuck together _for survival_. And now there was Maisie, which complicated things, not that you'd know it from the grin on Owen's face.

He looked over his shoulder, winking. "Five minutes earlier, and you could've joined me."

Claire didn't know how he could still joke around in a situation like this, but then, Owen was never serious about anything. She knew it, and still she found herself asking, "So what now?"

"We beat it. Go to the mountains, my place," he shrugged. "It's remote enough so no one will find us for a while. The dinosaurs don't like the cold. We'll be safe at least through the winter."

"Ignoring that 'we', which we will get back to later," Claire promised, "What about Maisie?"

"She's coming, of course."

Claire's heart ached when she thought of the child, all alone in the world. "What do we know of kids? Who's going to take care of her?"

"We'll figure it out."

She shook her head at him, exasperated. "We can't just…take her! They won't let us, not for long."

Owen looked at her as if she was the one who was being crazy. "You know she trusts us. She needs to stay with us."

"Yes, but will anyone care? They'll say we've kidnapped the heiress to the Lockwood Estate, and that's if they don't also try to pin the dinosaur breakout situation on us, too."

"You made a job out of making people care about the dinosaurs," he reminded her, which was rich because he'd never cared for her political activism, or that she wanted to do anything in the public sphere again after the trials, the lawsuits. "You can make them care about the rights of clones."

"Maybe I don't want to," Claire said in a small voice. She grabbed on to the edge of the sink to steady herself and rubbed a fist over her aching temple. "Maybe I'm tired."

"We're all tired," he agreed, and dropped his belt into the sink to grace her with his full attention. The bathroom was small; he only needed to turn around to stand in front of her and lay his hands on her hips. "We don't have to think about it now."

"Owen…" she sighed. "What are we even going to do with her? Even if we get to keep her, there are a million little… School, to start with. Doctor's visits, like, does she have allergies? Has she had all her shots? We don't even know _what_ she is. Does she have a birth certificate, a social security number? Does she exist at all?"

He stabbed a finger at the door. "She exists. She's sleeping right there."

"You know how I mean."

"Yes, I know, Claire, but I don't care right now. All I know is that we can't leave her to Dr. Wu or whoever. You know what they'll do to her if we don't protect her. A clone? She'll be a lab rat, an experiment. You couldn't even bring yourself to let the dinosaurs die." Suddenly, he smiled. "I know you a little bit, sweetheart, much as you'd like to deny it. You'll wake up tomorrow and start making phonecalls. You won't abandon the kid."

"But…" Claire swallowed hard. He was right, gone were her days of not caring. In some ways, it had been easier when dinosaurs had been assets, children only annoying little distractions from her work, and Owen… Well, it had been impossible not to care about him even when 'caring' meant despising him, but she'd managed for a while. Now, everything was so much more difficult, and that wasn't even considering the technicalities, the legalities, and the tangle they were possibly in with shady Russian animal traffickers.

Of course, she was the only one who thought about these things. Owen just shrugged off any concerns a reasonable grown up might have and went on his merry way. He'd run away from the memories of Isla Nublar in his van, and when Claire didn't want to run anymore, he'd left her. He hadn't fought for their relationship like he fought for Maisie; he hadn't fought for Claire.

"Fine, forget about all of that for a minute," she said, bitterness creeping up her throat and threatening to choke her up. "Think about what this means. Keeping her. Last time I saw you, you weren't even ready to live in a house like normal people. And now you want to…what, adopt a child?"

"Well, yes," he said as if he'd arrived at this conclusion after long, thorough deliberation.

Claire swallowed hard. He was looking right at her, unwavering, and suddenly she couldn't bear what she saw in his eyes, it was too much. She dropped her gaze and landed on his pecs, which made for a nice enough sight but stirred something else in her she didn't particularly want to contemplate at that moment. "And you imagine that we'll set up a coparenting agreement or something? Like _adults_?"

"That's up to you. But two parents are better than one."

"Oh, suddenly it's up to me? Excuse me for being skeptical after you left!"

Owen laughed. "Aha! You admit that I left you!"

She nudged him in his stupid, perfect pecs. None of this was funny. "I told you to leave," she reiterated, because maintaining that did make her feel better, "because you'd already checked out. You didn't want to commit, okay, I get it-"

"I would've been fine committing to _you_ , just not those grand plans you were making!" he exclaimed, voice rising now to carry beyond the bathroom.

Claire slapped a hand over his mouth. "Grand plans?" she spat out in a harsh whisper, "All I wanted was to stop and breathe once in a while! Maybe even find a place to live that had a proper bathroom and a washing machine-"

"You wanted back to your job, bossing people around and being high and mighty and important-"

"No, I just wanted to stop feeling like we were running away!" she burst out, which thankfully made him shut up. She couldn't stand to hear one more word about how arrogant and unbearable he'd found her during their time together, not when she'd been so in love with him. "I wanted to stop living in the shadow of what had happened. Find somewhere for us to be. Together! Something to do. Something with a purpose."

Owen frowned. "There's Maisie now," he said in a quieter voice.

It was Claire's turn to laugh. " _Doing it for the kids_ never works in the long run!"

His hands tightened on her hips, squeezing her hard. "Goddamn it, Claire, did you _see_ what I was doing when you came to drag me back into that mess? I was building a fucking house, fit for a fucking princess! The van was…" He squirmed, suddenly overcome with an uncharacteristic sheepishness, "A temporary solution."

She stared at him in slack-jawed shock for a moment. "And you couldn't have told me that then?"

"I didn't know it then. I only realized after you were gone," he said, and chanced a hopeful look at her like the stupid, overgrown puppy he was. "I was going to call you when the cabin was ready."

"And you thought I'd come running?"

"I don't know what I thought, all right? I just, I hoped you'd still care a little bit."

Claire hesitated. She might be setting herself up for more heartache here, but she'd _seen_ the stupid cabin, the bare bones of it at least, only waiting for her to roll up her sleeves and help him raise it up. Only a few slabs of wood, and yet it was _everything_. "I care. A little bit," she said quietly, hugging herself against a sudden shiver. "I could've dealt with the van, you know. If I'd realized you had plans for…after. If you'd just let me drive the damn thing once in a while!"

"Yeah, I know," he admitted, quirking a rueful smile. "My bad."

"My bad? That's all you have to say?"

"What else do you want me to say?" He moved in closer, so close she had to brace herself with her hands on his chest as his arms came around her. "I'm sorry. Can we start over?" he offered, and Claire had to admit, in her heart of hearts, that was a pretty good guess at what she wanted to hear.

"Is this just the trauma talking?" she asked anyway, just to be sure he wouldn't backpedal. "Did you hit your head?"

He huffed. "Can't you ever… You really don't do 'nice', do you? I'm sorry, Claire, damn it. Now do with that what you want."

She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry too." That part was easy, awkward though she felt. "I didn't know what to do with myself, then. I was… I felt lost. It wasn't your fault. Not _all_ of it, anyway."

After a moment he nodded, and for the first time in a long time, they understood each other.

The more complicated issue was where they would go from here. All her life, she'd had a plan laid out for herself, steps to follow, _A, B, C_ , always in the correct order, but then disaster had struck at the park and her orderly life, everything she had worked so hard for, was turned upside down. Unfairly, she'd attributed the seismic shift to him, but even though Owen had rocked her world, it hadn't been he who'd toppled the castles she'd built in the sky. That had been her own hubris in thinking she could impose order on the natural course of things, play goddess in the vast sandbox of Jurassic World and control the uncontrollable. She was guilty of a thousand different acts of arrogance, some of which had cost human lives, and she'd struggled under the burden for a long time now, and forgotten that he carried his own heavy guilt.

Leaving the relationship to start up the Dinosaur Protection Group had seemed like the way to focus her attentions in the right place at the time, but looking back at it now, Claire knew that she'd made a step back, not forward. Taking care of the animals had felt like a way to make amends, but Owen wasn't wrong that she'd still tried to assert control over a situation that should have been out of her hands. She was too close to it, and she couldn't see the forest for the trees.

Meanwhile, there had been her nephews, struggling with the trauma of what they'd gone through, her sister trying to maneuver life after her divorce, and Owen, who'd seen his life's work trampled into the dust just like she had, and yet she hadn't been able to stop and _see_ any of them, try to help the ones closest to her. No, she'd been out trying to save the world, but the world didn't even want her. It would keep spinning without her, at least for a while.

She should have been there for him, she thought, and allowed him to be there for her in his own way. Suddenly, as she looked at him standing before her in his towel, she could see all the scars he bore, and knew how they ached, for she had her own. Claire wanted to cry. They'd been stupid, and almost lost the one good thing they had going for themselves between them.

She threw her arms around his neck, gulping in hectic little breaths through a constricting throat. "Do you think we could do better this time?"

"Well, we must've learned _something,_ right?" He held her to him, bowing his head over hers, and she could hear him breathe deeply. "I know I have. And I know I just don't want to lose you again." She felt his lips in her hair, caressing her even as he squeezed her with some desperation. "Fuck, Claire. Today was too close. When I had to leave you there with your leg hurt… I just _knew_ I'd never forgive myself if that was the last time I saw you. The last chance to, to make things right."

She hid her face away in the crook of his neck, shuddering. "We're here now. This is it. Another chance."

"And I'm not going to waste it." He nudged her chin up and found her lips with his, and for a moment, the kiss was sweet and gentle, a soothing balm on all their hurts. Then his tongue nudged past her lips, and the last of her defenses came crashing down. Maybe it was a spectacular mess that they were making here, but Claire was done planning ahead. The spark between them fell on the kindling of their long-denied desire, and suddenly she couldn't stop kissing, touching, _wanting_.

They clung to each other as if they were one. Time apart had done nothing to spoil this: kissing came from muscle memory, and they'd never unlearned it. There was no awkwardness, no fumbling or bumping of noses or uncomfortably craned necks. They simply fused together as if they'd never been separated, the softness of her body fitting perfectly against the hard planes of his, Claire's head comfortably pillowed on his lower arm as he dipped her backwards. This was the one thing between them that had always come easily, and the relief of it was sheer overwhelming.

Claire ran her hands all over his chest, enjoying the feeling of muscle rippling just beneath the surface of his skin. There'd been too little time to appreciate his strength when he rescued her from the gyrosphere or took on armed criminals in hand-to-hand combat to protect her, but now she reveled in it, the power that had saved her life not just once. He felt so good, so warm and alive, and that in itself was a miracle.

"Damn, you feel nice," Owen groaned out, his hands running from her face all the way down her side, stopping by the landmarks of her breasts and hips, and Claire smiled to hear him say the same thing she was thinking. "Come here." Kissing at the pulse fluttering in her neck, he bent over her, and before she knew it, he was grabbing the back of her knees and trying to hoist her up against the door.

Pain shot through her leg like a bullet. Claire cried out, which caused him to jump and almost drop her. "Ow! Dinosaur claw through the leg, remember?"

"Fuck! Sorry!" He broke away, startled, and ran a shaky hand through his hair. "Yeah, I forgot. I just, I wanted…"

Even through her eyes watering, Claire had to laugh. "Yeah, me too." Wincing, she undid her pants and pushed them down, revealing the wide bandage around her thigh. Her leg throbbed, but the bandage was white and pristine, so at least the stitches held.

Owen dropped to one knee before her and stroked his hand over her leg from her ankle to just below the bandage. "That'll be one badass scar."

"It'll go great with my cellulite," she deadpanned, and he looked up at her and grinned.

"Nothing wrong with your legs, sweetheart. Or any part of you, really, except maybe your sharp tongue."

"Shut up, Owen."

"Right. I do have better things to do, actually." He stroked his hand up higher between her legs, his knuckles brushing against the wet patch where her panties clung to her skin. Claire shuddered, and he let out a low, rumbling laugh. "Mm," he made, leaning in to press his face into the triangle at the apex of her thighs. She squirmed as he breathed deeply and then, after what felt like an eternity, let his tongue sneak out for a taste.

Claire moaned. She leaned back against the door, grabbing the doorknob for support as Owen nipped at her through the filmy panties. He was moving too slowly for her liking, so she grabbed on to a fistful of his hair and tried to drag his mouth to where she wanted it.

He chuckled. "Are you okay standing there?"

"For a little while," she gasped. "Hurry it up!"

He pulled her panties down her legs, taking care to avoid the elastic snapping against her wound. Then he was back, dragging his tongue downwards between her nether lips. Shivers started to race over her skin and didn't stop, as if she was battling a terrible fever that gave her chills even while her body was on fire. Her blood rushed through her veins like lava; after running from an exploding volcano just a few days ago, Claire felt she was entitled to the comparison. The fever burn he incited inside her could be just as destructive, but there was a much sweeter escape from it than earth-shattering violence, and for the first time in months, she felt free to give in to her desire, let it sweep her along and carry her away to safe ground.

Their passion wouldn't burn them, not this time.

"Owen," she breathed, and he tilted his head up slightly to look at her though he never stopped caressing her with his mouth. Claire watched him lick her, her face growing warm. Putting a picture to the feeling of what he was doing to her seemed to redouble the pleasure. She squirmed, pushing back against the pressure of his tongue. "Come here. And lose the towel."

He stood in a fluid motion that she envied and tossed aside the towel he'd slung around his hips. He was hard, and Claire felt sort of giddy with how much he wanted her when he backed her into the door and she could feel his cock rubbing against her abdomen. She tried to stand on tiptoes to kiss him, but it was no use with her bad leg; he had to come to her, and he did, gathering her up against his chest so she barely had to support her own weight. There was still some desperation in the way their lips clashed, but this time it stemmed not from terror of loss, but the joy of having found back to each other.

Claire ran her hands all over him, almost shaky with disbelief that she'd get to touch him again after all this time. He was tan from working outside with his shirt off, except for the small white marks all over his arms and shoulders that she knew were scars from baby raptor bites. She greeted each of them like an old friend, kissing every one that she could reach. There were bruises, too, from the recent fight for their life, and she glanced up at him as she came across a particularly nasty one on his ribcage. "Oh, Owen, you should've told me you were hurt-"

"I'm fine. Great, actually." He rubbed up against her as if to prove it, smirking. "But you're welcome to kiss them better."

She did, kissing down his neck and chest, then touched all the ones out of range with gentle, soothing fingers. Finally, she arrived at his straining erection, which had luckily survived the fight undamaged but still could do with some attention. Smiling, Claire stroked her hand up and down, the loose circle of her fingers progressively tightening until he was gasping and began to rock into her touch. He looked incredulous, staring down at her caressing him, but terribly pleased with her and himself and the whole world, and she had to laugh.

She nipped gently at his lower lip to rouse him from the stupor of his arousal. "Help me figure this out. I'm not sure how we can…"

"Where there's a will, there's a way," Owen rasped, his voice rumbling low in his chest. "And believe me, there's a will. Protection?"

She bit her lip, shaking her head. Condoms had been the last thing on her mind when she ran through the store earlier shoving essentials into her bag, but it really was a grievous oversight. "But I never… There haven't been any dermatologists. Or anyone else."

His face brightened with that childlike grin he still wore like an overgrown boy, and suddenly it was like the sun had risen above her and all Claire could see was him. "Not for me, either."

She felt a ridiculous surge of relief sweep over her, washing away the last of her apprehensions. It was silly, but there it was. "Get to it then!"

They shifted around awkwardly, trying to find a position that would allow them to actually fuck without hurting her leg too much, but the painkillers had worn off and every little twitch of muscle hurt. She couldn't maintain her balance if he tried to get at her standing up, and when Owen sat on the edge of the bathtub so she could straddle him, the injured muscle in her thigh jumped painfully and her leg gave out under her. She almost tumbled backwards off his knees, and possibly would've knocked herself out on the sink if he hadn't caught her.

"Face the other way. Sit back on my lap. Like that," he coaxed, turning her around so her back was to him and she could simply let his cock slide between her legs. He filled her, hard and thick and hot, and for all of five seconds, it was blissful, until Claire realized the angle was bad. She couldn't lift up to improve things, though, not with her leg, and Owen didn't have much leverage when they were positioned like this.

Frustrated, she rolled her hips in small circles, sort of grinding against him while he ran his hands all over her. That was the nice part of it, the way he had his hands free to touch her, now palming her breasts, now reaching between her legs to spread the moisture there around. It wasn't enough, though, not for either of them. "Fuck," she bit out, desperately. "This isn't working."

"Come on, we're no quitters here," Owen said through his teeth. He lifted her off him, patting her ass cheeks as she went, and helped her to stand. With him towering over her, his hands on her the only thing keeping her from falling to the floor in an undignified heap, Claire suddenly felt small and vulnerable. He cupped her chin in one hand and kissed her very very gently, like he knew the pain she was in and was loath to inflict more with a careless touch, and it was then that she remembered she could trust him completely. He'd saved her life several times over, and she his. Together, they had accomplished amazing things; they could probably do anything. They'd be all right.

"We can wait if that's what you need," he said when he drew back, though his expression was pained.

She shook her head wildly. After the taste they'd had, it felt impossible to just stop. "I don't want to wait. I've missed you."

"Me too." He smiled at her, then looked around, thoughtful. Finally, he grabbed a towel and, with a flourish, spread it on the floor. "Can you kneel down?"

Claire tried, but bending her leg and balancing on all fours was out of the question. "I don't think I can do much of anything."

"Lie down then."

"On the floor? Here?" The bathroom was shabby, and when she went to sit on the towel, she had a very unpleasant view of the grimy underside of the sink, where a fat spider had made its home in a cobweb. "Ew," she made, shuddering. The whole thing was ridiculous, painful, and entirely too much work, and yet it was somehow exactly what she needed; come to think of it, it was a perfect snapshot of their relationship. Shakily, she lay back, drawing Owen down with her. He wedged another towel under her injured leg to prop it up slightly, then angled the other outward to make room for himself.

"I've got you," he whispered as he moved in to kiss her, rocking forward and inside her. He filled her deeply, at last, just like she'd craved, and Claire let her head loll back on the towel and moaned.

Every part of Owen's body was large, and it felt fucking amazing. She had no idea how he fit his long limbs into the small space between the bathtub and the door, but she didn't care about logistics when he was thrusting inside her like that. They were both more adventurous than the good old missionary position by nature, but just then, Claire could imagine nothing more blissful: his large, heavy body covering her completely, hiding her away from all the world. She squeezed her eyes shut so she didn't have to see the moldy shower curtain or the dirty floor or the toilet right next to her, so everything around her was Owen, his scent, his warmth, the noises he made low in his throat as he drew back and then filled her again, made her whole.

"Hey. You okay?" he bit out, holding himself still for a moment. "Look at me, Claire. This work for you?"

She dragged her heavy lids open, squinting against the ceiling lamp above, but he hovered over her and all she saw was the lovely blue-green of his eyes. "I'm fine," she tried, voice thick with emotion all of a sudden. "Just… I need you."

"I'm here," he said, brow furrowing in confusion. "I'm here for you."

"Okay. Okay." Claire clawed at his back, trying to get him to move. She hooked her good leg over his hip, wanting closer even though he was already buried inside her as deep as he could go. They'd left each other one too many times, and now that they were together again, she never wanted it to end.

Not that this here would last long. The danger and elation of their brush with death had them both wound up, and it took very little between them to kindle post-traumatic euphoria. Once more, they'd made it through the fire alive if slightly worse for the wear, but the heat that burned on inside them would take a while to dissipate. They moved frantically together, Claire matching his fast and furious rhythm. Her leg ached and her tailbone felt bruised from slamming into the floor tiles, but she didn't care. Pain was fleeting, insubstantial; they had almost died together many times over, and yet they were here, and everything that had come before suddenly didn't matter anymore. It was gone, the wounds healed, and if they'd left scars, well, they'd wear them like badges of honor.

She cried out, the tension between them mounting. Owen moved above her so there was friction in all the right places, his pubic bone pressing into her clit on each thrust. She clung to him, gasping for breath in between sloppy, wet kisses when he went to suck at her neck, her jaw, fumble with the shirt she still wore to get at her breasts. She could feel his rhythm get more erratic as the pleasure spiked, and she clenched around his cock once, twice, the tension and subsequent release kicking off a cascade of feeling that suddenly moved all on its own, like water trickling through cracks and shattering even the hardest rock from the inside out.

She gulped for breath, sobbing as her orgasm shuddered through her. She gripped him hard as she rode out the aftershocks, triggering an answering sensation in him. He tensed, trembling under her hands with the strain of holding himself together. His lower back was slippery with sweat. "Damn, Claire," he groaned out, "Can I…?"

"Go for it, it's safe," Claire whispered in his ear, cradling his head with one hand as he dropped it down on to her shoulder and started moving faster, a last sprint towards the finish line. Her cycle was like clockwork, one of the things she analyzed, charted and kept on top of. She'd never liked to take chances in her life, but maybe she should do it more often; taking a chance on him had led her here, after all, and whatever mistakes she'd made, sticking with him had not been one. It had been her only saving grace.

Owen had only waited for her permission. Panting, he slammed his hips forward and then held himself there as he came, bucking above her for a few seconds until he collapsed into her waiting arms, drained and satisfied. Claire could feel his low chuckle reverberating through her more than she heard him, the pounding of blood in her ears was so loud, but then he lifted his head and she saw his face transformed with his smile.

"What a day, eh?"

She laughed. "Yeah. What are the odds of surviving a dinosaur chase twice?"

"I don't know. We're getting pretty good." He looked smug. "But mostly I meant this. Right here." He made his point by rolling his hips one more time, and Claire jumped, giggling.

"As surprises go, I like this one better than the sinister plots by evil corporations." Sighing, she stroked her hand over his cheek and kept it there, enjoying the slight scratch of his scruff against her palm. "We'll be okay, right?"

"We'll be okay," he nodded, and that was good enough for the moment.

Claire smiled. "Next time, I want a five-star resort. But I'd even just settle for having our own room."

They looked at each other and had to laugh. He helped her to stand and get cleaned up, then carried her over into the bedroom, where Maisie was fast asleep, thank god.

The bed was a tight fit, but that was actually nice. Amazing what a change in perspective could do, Claire thought, and felt stupid and also stupidly happy. She curled up with a pillow in front to prop up her bad leg and Owen's warm, solid form behind her and actually felt calm wash over her. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend that they were in the van, that he'd never left and she'd never had to be without him, but that was silly; they were better now for what they'd gone through.

One thing hadn't changed, though. She wondered if she should say the words as she once used to, or if it was all still too fresh, but then Owen beat her to it.

"Love you, Claire," he said gruffly, "Always have. But I swear to god, if you start hogging the blankets again…!"

"I don't hog them, you throw them over me in the night! Along with your big, heavy self," she retorted when he wrapped an arm around her and hot breath brushed the back of her neck. "I actually missed your grizzly bear impression. Sleeping next to you is like hibernating in a bear cave."

He chuckled into her hair. "Well, as long as you don't compare me to the sleeping t-rex…!"

"The snoring comes close. But the t-rex has much shorter arms." Her stomach fluttered. "Owen?"

"Hm?"

"I love you too."

He pressed a kiss to the back of her neck, then curled around her as if to prove her point and promptly fell asleep. Claire lay awake for a while longer, listening to Owen snoring behind her and Maisie's deep, even breaths coming from the other bed. It was odd how life could change in the span of a day and upset all of her best-laid plans, but hey, she'd take it.


End file.
